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our house. in the middle of our street.

For all that I keep saying that i'm becoming free from the thoughts that have plagued me for the last two months, i can't quite let go ... i had to push a painful subject, create a painful conversation that did me and him not a bit of good. no harm done, i believe, but i just had to push ... stupid.

sometimes i test people. how much will you take from me without getting angry, how much before you push me a away? are your limits really what you say they are? it's not right, but it's a bad, old habit.

work was somewhat pleasant last night. slight deja vu of saturday, with two side by side "semi-ventilator" patients ... intubated, anesthetized, and monitored, but still breathing on their own. Saturday, they were full vent patients, with fluid on the lungs. Today, it was a pair of seizure dogs, nothing to complicated to maintain, both on loads of barbituates.

i want to hook myself up to a pento drip. i could use a nice, grey coma.

i'm a little annoyed at my school, more annoyed at myself ... i screwed up a stupid answer on a stupid quiz because i was shaky and hypoglycemic. it won't mess me up too bad, but i was annoyed.

He's going to buy me a house someday, he says ...
maybe someday, that will be a reality that i can believe.
in seattle, he says. grey skies and green trees ... it's a nice idea.
houses in seattle are even cheaper than houses in moreno valley.
i have friends up there that could help me find work.
i should stop thinking about this. optimism will be the death of me.

Flea's back hurts him again. i'm worried.
i need to sleep.

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